A phrase that would make sense only to my children, if I didn’t give you an explanation. When Elvis and their father were young, their father misheard the lyrics of “Hound Dog”; he thought Elvis was singing “They said you was a tie clasp, but that was just a lie.” Having gone to prep school, where tie clasps abounded, the children’s father was understandably confused.
One of our private jokes when something was high-class [or not] was to say “totally tie-clasp”, and then laugh.
Why has this come to mind? When I was minding the store at switchboard last Wednesday, an attorney who used to work at our firm stopped by to say hello to me. It wasn’t “Oh, I’m here to see the managing attorney, and you’re sitting here, so I’ll say hi.” He was on our floor for a deposition at another firm, and he came in just to say hi to me. He didn’t ask to speak to anybody else. He stood at my desk and visited with me, asked how my kids and my grandkids were doing, how I am doing. And told me how he and his lovely wife are doing. Just two human beings, having a warm and cordial conversation.
Totally tie-clasp. Which brings me now to reasonably tie-clasp.
The January Mystery Socks are done and posted to Ravelry. I pulled stuff out of my red bag before getting on the train yesterday, so I could take the next picture.
Sunrise, looking east from the park and ride at the T&P Station. Doesn’t it just make you think of pomegranate molasses?
I put stuff back in my bag. When LadyZen asked me how the newest socks were going, I reached in my bag, came up empty, and decided that I had left it on the couch. Wrong.
When I walked out to Lorelai last night, there was a weird bump on the trunk. A weird woolly bump that was miraculously free from grackle poo.
Honest people. I seem to be surrounded by them. See why I love living in Fort Worth?
Four loads of laundry last night. I’ll spare you the visual. What a crazy, exhausting pain in the patoot, but I’m officially done for three or four weeks. And now it’s almost midnight, and the Oreo cookie shake I had for dessert when I left the laundromat, has worn off. I think I might be able to sleep.
More in the morning. There was something else I wanted to share, but blessed if I can remember what it was. [It’s now officially morning, and I still can’t remember, so it must not have been that important.]
I have stashed the January Mystery Socks in the yellow knitting bag, to take to Knit Night next week. [Tonight I have a Relief Society board meeting in my ward.] But for now I think I will curl up on the couch and listen to the last ten minutes or so of the current CD in the current audiobook and work on the Clapotis en Soie without distraction. Yes, I am procrastinating the first row of rectangles on the entrelac socks. Yes, I am just the teensiest bit scared to take the next step. Yes, this is a metaphor for other aspects of my life. Yes, I will get around to it all, one step or stitch at a time.
No, I don’t have any idea what I’m going to wear to work today, but today the problem is having too many options to choose from, rather than “what’s clean that I didn’t wear yesterday?”
Tuesday? How can it be Tuesday already?
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!